Guns 'N Kindred
by LeShyWolf
Summary: Sometimes, the smallest and seemingly insignificant things that one had done in the past, will find its way back to its source. Michael will learn that it certainly is true for him when a piece from his past catches up to him. A daughter.
1. Chapter 1

"Hey!"

My hands clench around the hard, round and cold metal as my legs coil over it like an agile snake, my head starts to feel the pressure of blood rushing so I lean up and wrap my fingers on the bars with a strong grip before using the pole as leverage to manoeuvre, allowing my feet to slam against the concrete floor. The voice continues in the background. A headache slithers into the side of my skull, tightening and throbbing the more it carries on. I do my best to ignore it, focusing on the road. Many cars pass. Many cars stop. Many people walk by- but I never spot what I'm looking for.

"Are you even listening?" The shrill, high pitched voice sends a feeling of discomfort through my ears. Her white, bleached hair swings over her shoulder as she lets out an indignant scoff when I send her my blank stare. "What the fuck are you doing? I may have been partnered with you of all possible options- and God knows that we hate each other- but that doesn't mean you can slack off!"

The whine in her tone is the equivalent to sharp nails dragging down a chalkboard. I cringe. Miss Chipmunk over here has a lot of money. She's had breast enlargement more times than Michael Jackson has had surgeons operated on his face, her father being the richest guy in town; so I don't understand why she doesn't just hire someone to do the assignment for us- or at least get a voicebox transplant. She needs it. Badly, in my opinion.

"Listen, Princess," she looks affronted at the cute little nickname I've made up for her. She can hate it all she wants, I think it's perfect. "For some reason I've been put with you for this project, I must have done something in a past life- because that is the ultimate hell- but I think we need to establish something here; you're not my boss."

Lifting up the corner of my lips, I throw her a sarcastic smirk before stepping over to the side away from her in an attempt to give her the hint I don't feel like talking. I cross my arms under my chest. My teeth gnaw on the inside of my right cheek while I keep a keen eye out for my ride home. Where is he?

A sudden sting pokes me in the shoulder. I muster up the energy to crane my neck to the left and concentrate my vision on the aggravated girl standing next to me. Her emerald eyes are flaming, a flush of anger in her overly tanned cheeks as she fumes. Her hands clench and her face sours to the point where it looks like she's an old woman with fast growing wrinkles. "I will not be spoken to like that! I am like, a lot more important than you! If this were the ice age- I'd be like, a queen or something. You're like- a peasant!"

My brain cells pause at the stupid comment, wanting to grab the nearest gun and shove it in my ear before pulling that merciful trigger. If an Irishman started a drinking game for how many times this girl has irritated me in this lifetime, they'd get alcohol poisoning. "Wow. I'm so sorry. I had no idea."

Sarcasm is my eternal companion and the only one for me- I will forever hold it close to my heart.

Her eyes widen an inch with surprise, obviously missing the tone entirely. I want to slap her. I seriously want to slap her- burn her, do something painful to her. Maybe I should pour acid in my mouth and wash out my brain with bleach to protect it from the stupid. "That's more like it!"

"Are you always this idiotic- or do you have to practice in front of a mirror?" She opens her mouth, red plump lips shooting open. Her forehead creases, bitter expression enhancing as she looks at me in immense disapproval and disgust. "Never mind, it was a trick question."

A car horn blares out of the blue and catches my immediate attention. Turning on my heel, my hand raises to give her a quick, mocking salute before I start jogging over to the car. My black combat boots slap against the pavement, hair bouncing and whipping behind my shoulders. It flails out of my face, like a curtain withdrawing.

My hand yanks open the car door and I hop in, closing it with a slight thud behind me before clicking in my seat belt. Prissy Prim Queen is currently making her way over, features twisting into something unpleasant. "Step on it."

"Making enemies as usual I see. Charming." Eddie's sharp face glances up over the rim of his glasses, seeing the rich heiress charging towards his car like a provoked bull. He casually adjusts the mirror before pulling out of the parking lot. I scoff slightly at his assumption, but then nod in confirmation.

"Of all the people in the world, I think I'd rather have Hitler as a pal than her as a science partner." Not exactly true, Hitler seemed like a royal asshole obsessed with power and his interpretation of world perfection. But who doesn't love a bit of exaggeration?

I stretch out, arms raising, legs straightening and back arching. Bones click and pop into place. A yawn escapes my lips as my eyes drift towards outside and I tiredly scratch my cheek. He takes a left. The wind pours in through the window, spraying in my cheeks and causing my hair to wildly dance around my face as he picks up the speed on the road. My lips twitch in amusement as his dark hair also waves around.

"So, any college plans?"

"Nope. Nada." I lean back, chilling casually as I lift up my feet to rest them on the dashboard in relaxation. Reaching over, my finger presses down on the arrow buttons, playing with the window. It raises and lowers while making electronic buzzing sounds, temporarily sating my boredom while avoiding the stalling the subject of what I am going to be. Like a blank piece of paper, or an unwritten book, I am blind to my future.

"Hey, stop messing with the windows." His dark eyes flicker over, narrowing slightly in his annoyance. A teasing smile presents itself on my mouth as I send him a mirthful glance, but I stop nonetheless. "So if not college, what are your plans? Other than slack your ass off for a couple years that is."

"Drift or- as the hippies would say; go where the wind takes me." I give an innocent shrug at my clueless life-plan-free schedule. I've never given it much thought. I'm a mechanic, not a fortune teller. "Become a nomad? Maybe I'll become an astronaut and save the world from aliens one day."

"Oh? Hey, I think I heard that there's an extraterrestrial invasion going on in Vice City, maybe you should head there to kick start your 'save the world' career."

"Mock me all you want- I'm going to save the galaxy from gigantic robotic frogs." I throw him a small grin, a light chuckle tickling in my throat.

"Screw frogs, bunnies are more crooked." He seems determined to prove this to me, his thin lips forming into a scowl.

An unlady-like snort escapes me. I rest cheek in my palm, placing my elbow on the side of the rolled down window. "Sure. All fluffy and... adorably evil."

"They screw around like dogs in heat, pops out a baby every two seconds and before you know it, your garden is ruined and you have rabbit crap everywhere." My eyes roll in their sockets, looking off to the side at some people walking down the sidewalk. He's always had this strong vendetta against the said little animals who I just find incredibly cute. "So yes, rabbits are evil and crooked. Australia will agree with me."

"They annoy you." To his unfortunate luck, I happen to love grinding his nerves a lot. I'm like the little sister he wished he never had. "Which is why I love them."

"I'll make sure you wake up tomorrow and see dead bunnies hanging outside your windows in that case." His dark eyes glance over at me pointedly with the threat, closing slightly into irked slits.

"D'aw, you love me really Eddie-Boo." I coo at him mockingly. Twisting my neck in his direction, my teeth bare at him in a sweet smile. I flutter my lashes teasingly.

"Oh by the balls of the bloody- Stop calling me that!" He flusters, a tinge of red coloring his cheeks. His knuckles become white with the tight, irritated grip he has on the steering wheel. My sharp teeth reveal themselves at him once again, like the fangs of a malicious shark. "Everyone either calls me Ed, Edward or just D, so why can't you do the bloody same? You know how much I hate that nickname."

"I know, Eddie-Boo, which is why I use it." I give a satisfied sigh, putting my hands behind my head and pushing my back into the seat even more. I loosen my muscles, mirth tightening in my chest as I fight the laughter at his sour scowl. "You secretly love it, deep down, that someone would care so much."

"And people wonder why the hell I prefer to remain single." Ed has his usual look. Like someone has shoved something completely acetic in his mouth. At the conversation turn, my ears perk up. Interest peaking.

"Speaking of that- this girl in my class? She's got a crush on you."

"Tell her to sod off the next time you see her again." I get the distinct impression he doesn't seem all too happy.

"I'll make sure to edit that message and make it seem like you return her immense love and passion." I arch an eyebrow. "Just like Romeo and Juliet- with less death. And the only forbidden part would be you playing hard to get."

"And you will break her heart when I reject her in person, the hard way. So go ahead, if you want to be cruel."

"You're flattered, in truth." I argue, then lean forward and hold the button down to close the window. The wind is starting to irritate me. I'm use to the cold weather, but it keeps slapping my hair around.

"Nah, relationships are overrated. Stay single, and keep it simple." Eddie looks revolted at the thought of coupling with someone- like it's the worst torture in the world. His pessimism makes me proud.

"You're only saying that because you've never been in one."

"And you've been in one? Or you had a secret boyfriend hidden in your closet?"

"An invisible one, yes. He's a God. His name is Loki. He's sweet, mischievous and brings me heart-shaped burgers every Tuesday."

"Oh, tell him I said hi. If he hasn't died from suffocation in your closet."

"Eddie, he's imaginary. He doesn't need to breathe."

"Tell your imaginary boyfriend to go screw himself."

I gnaw on my bottom lip, eyes briefly flickering to the window in boredom. "I'll also make sure to tell him how much I love you and that you're the best big brother one young sadistic teenage girl could ever have."

"Did anyone tell you that it is unwise to antagonize the person who is behind the wheel of the car you are sitting in?" He shakes his head slightly while reaching up to his face, pushing his falling glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"I can't recall of such a thing, no." I lie, aware of just how many times he's told me. What can I say? Teasing Eddie is one hell of a fun way to pass the time. Screw scrabble and eye-spy. Hooray mental torture.

"My head could explode, and with no one behind the wheel and the windscreen splattered with my blood, the car will go out of control and crash. With both of us in it." Due to my sadistic and morbid tendencies, I can't find myself caring.

"Cool. Would be an awesome way to go. Maybe I should find a bomb and detonate it just before you die- that way we'd go up in beautiful flames." My head tilts to the side. I lift a hand to stroke my chin like an evil mastermind. "It'll be poetic."

"That ends with me dead. Glad to know you spend half your time composing poets on the many grisly ways I meet my demise." Eddie merely gives a scoff from my typical behavior.

"You should read some of them." I encourage, giving him yet another fat grin that resembles a hungry predator. "In one, you're put under a curse by a wicked witch to dance to Beyonce while badly singing Put a Ring On It- then I shoot you out of mercy. It's quite emotional."

"To half-wits who couldn't even count the number of fingers they have on one hand, I'm sure."

Briefly ignoring Eddie, I lean over to him while fiddling with the dial on the radio. It buzzes to life, screaming high pitched, static noises before I manage to find a working channel. The second '_What is Love_?' jumps to life, I stop searching instantly and spread my lips to a wide, giddy grin. I crank up the volume to high and kick back my feet, putting them back on the dashboard.

"Seriously?" He rolls his eyes at my amazing choice.

"You gotta have a love for the classics man!" I defend. My foot taps to the beat, head bobbing up and down to the fantastic song. The music slithers into my system, causing my hand to slap on my leg to it. I love this song- though he doesn't. I swear a vein is throbbing in his temple.

"Whatever rocks your boat."

"I think it's- whatever floats your boat."

"Whatever." He dismisses coldly, waving his hand as he tries to concentrate on the road. I'm not exactly helping in this cause, but if I die, I'm dying to an awesome song. "Grammar Nazi."

I simply give a little innocent shrug of my shoulders, nodding my head to the rhythm of the catchy song. The rest of the ride is silent, with the occasional teasing and sarcastic comments every now and then and music playing in the background. He soon pulls up to his house, tires crunching against the thick snow. I un-click my seat belt and hop out of the car.

As I walk to the front, I notice a dent in the left side while he shuts the door behind him. My finger jabs in the damaged area, almost accusingly. "When did that happen?"

He glances at the source of my aggravation. "In the morning. Some drunk bastard got in a car and drove down the street in the opposite direction." He gestures to the dent. "Then that happened."

Walking around, I kneel down next to his car to examine the dent. My knee dampens from the icy snow rubbing up against the material of my jeans. "What did I tell you? Stop abusing your baby."

"I didn't do it." He says, defensive. His eyebrows knit together as a frown creases on his forehead. He puts his hands on his hips, brown orbs flickering between me, the car and his house with a disgruntled twist on his features. "Feel free to hunt down the prick and beat him if it makes you feel better."

"I'll borrow one of your rifles, then." I'm partially serious. I just did the new paint job recently for free for him, my irritation flares at the thought of having to do it again. "This is like walking around with a big ass ketch-up stain on a completely white shirt. It's disturbing for me to see our baby like this. It's just... unsightly."

I pause in my dramatics, pursing my lips in thought while I lean against the car. Hand touching the cold, dented metal as I examine it. "Where did you keep those rifles? I'm gonna teach the drunken douchebag a valuable lesson on alcohol control and shove an AA flyer down his throat."

His thin lips tighten. "Those are for hunting animals only, NOT humans. Go grab a wrench and beat his head with it instead."

"With pleasure." A growl rumbles up out of my throat, reaching all the way from the pit of my stomach like a furious lava rushing from a volcano. "I'll fix it, but get a hairdryer ready."

"A hairdryer." He stares at me. Disbelief and confusion all written across his face as he looks at me like I've finally lost all of my marbles. "What, you going to groom yourself while you repair the car?"

"Just do it, smartass." I throw back at him, grunting slightly as I stand up. Doubling over a little, I brush down my cold knees, dampening my palms. I can't wait to see his face when he watches me in his garage. "And some airduster!"

"Fine, fine, gimme a second."

He returns after a moment, putting the hairdryer in the drivers seat in preparation for later. We enter his house, warmth slinks around my body, engulfing me in a friendly greeting. Comfortable, I take off my coat and chuck it carelessly behind me. At a huff, my eyes flicker behind me at him. It's landed on his head, covering his face- which I know from memory looks annoyed.

"This-" His voice is muffled until he yanks the coat off his head- revealing his now messy, tousled hair. His bitter expression meets my sarcastic smile. "-is going straight into the dumpster."

"You dare put my precious coat near the trash, you won't get a fixed car." I wag my finger at him, tutting like he's a naughty child that stole from the cookie jar. "And we both know your parents won't pay for you- not after last time."

He doesn't seem to be bothered by the semi-empty-threat. "Eh, just a dent, I can live with that. Not like I'm the kind who freaks out at the tiniest scratch that I find on my car."

"People will be judging you for it- including me." I point out, pouting at him until he sighs and puts the coat on the rack next to the door. If he leaves it on the ground, his mother will nag him to death.

"This keeps up, and it wouldn't be long before you start beating me for lunch money."

Snorting in derision, I stroll by him, then pinch one of his cheeks as I coo like he's a baby. "I could never do that to my little Eddie-Boo."

His eyes widen in slight alarm, an indignant flush heating on his cheeks as he yanks himself from me. "Wha- Hey! You- Ugh, I give up."

I giggle, then nod to the kitchen as I jump onto the couch, falling lazily into it with an arm behind my head to lean on. "Do me a favor- be a gentlemanly host and fetch me a glass of water?"

"You have a water bottle in the car, drink from that."

"So mean," I retort, a whine to my voice. But I can't be bothered to muster up any energy to hit him around the head. Too much effort.

"Yes, yes, I'm a terrible, _terrible_ person, a mean guy- I've heard it all." He swats a hand, setting himself down beside me with a tired huff. I stretch my body, kicking off my boots before casually putting my feet on his lap. I snatch the TV remote from the arm of the couch, switching over channels in boredom.

Eddie leans over to the side, picking up a book and opening it to the middle. I take a curious peek. "What are you reading? One of those girly vampire romances you are so fond of?"

His face scrunches up, like he has an acidic taste in his mouth. "Ugh, no. Not that shit, books like are just bad, enough to drive people up walls."

"You seem to enjoy them enough. I've been in your room and seen your stash, you know."

"I seem to recall myself trying to tell you that those were books that my cousin left behind the other day on accident. But now I'm too lazy to repeat stuff that I had said over and over for multiple times."

"Then why do they have your name written in the back?" My teeth begin to bare their sharp fangs, revealing my shark grin another time today. "Just admit it, Eddie-boo. You're a soft romantic at heart."

"What? No they don't." Eddie has an adorably cute look of confusion on his face, slight panic starting to set in when he seems to come to the conclusion I did something.

Pfft- I never! How dare he think so low of me!

To be fair- he's so right to be cautious.

Cue the drum roll. It's time for the moment of reveal... "Should I bring out my phone? I have pictures of it."

He stares at me for a while, dark eyes turning to slits as realization suddenly clicks in his brain. "... You wrote my name down on the book didn't you?" My sly smirk is all the evidence he needs. "Who the hell writes their names down on books anyway? Eight year olds?"

"You know, I find that I'm quite artistic. Your signature was forged perfectly." I mockingly wave it in his face, far enough so he can't grab it but close enough so he can see it. "I even showed your mother. She seemed to completely believe it was your writing. Very realistic- don't you think?"

"... This conversation is over."

"Nope. No it's not." I suppress the wicked laughter that is stereotyped from What'cha doing?super villains- like Doctor Evil. Or a mad scientist about to launch the button to shock Frankenstein to life. "You're going to get me some water, or I will spread rumors around the school about you being a big romance junkie who loves all things like vampire romance." He clenches his jaw, a vein throbbing in his temple. Ah, mental torture and blackmailing is fun. "Hell, I have an acquaintance that can put it on the billboard."

"You? Acquaintance? Pardon me if I find that extremely hard to believe."

"Best believe it, Eddie-boo." I bluff, keeping up my malicious, sadistic facade. Though I can't lie- I'm enjoying this a bit too much. "I'm not that much of an introvert. I know my way around in the deep end of the dark sea. I'm a shark, baby. Question is; can you swim?"

"A shark that managed to find itself on the shit list of every other shark that lived in the ocean."

"So- where's that glass of water?"

He jabs his thumb to the kitchen, not taking his eyes off the page. They dart left and right, reading the lines nonchalantly. I nearly pout. "Bottle, or drink from tap."

"You don't seem to understand the concept of blackmail, Eddie." I bob him on the head, ruffling his brown locks, wiggling my phone in the air behind me. "You get me water; I delete one of the images."

"I'm occupied." He says, lifting a hand to swat mine from messing up his hair. It's already messed up enough as it is; his hair very much resembles a crazy birds nest.

"You're reading." I deadpan with a flat, irked tone, staring at him with disbelief.

"Exactly, I'm occupied with something. Unavailable. Busy." His voice takes on a monotone. Dark gaze still leaning down to decipher the words in the book. "Please leave a message in the voice mail if you need anything."

Shoving the phone in my back pocket, I reach forward with my other hand to roughly slap him on the back of his head. "You're damn lucky I like you so much."

"Sadly," He smiles faintly at something he read in the book before flipping the page. "The feeling isn't mutual."

Mockingly, I press the back of my arm on my forehead, feigning a dramatic tone as I speak loudly. "Woe is me. An unrequited love! What ever must have I have done to deserve such misery? What must I do to make you see that you do share my feelings?!"

Instead of keeping up the facade, a snicker escapes me and I leave my arm to my lap. Eyes drifting to the television screen, switching to the news. "Oh well, I'm over it."

"Small mercies. Thank them, bless them and worship them."

A small smirk slides on my lips, eyes flickering slyly over to him. Amusement tightening in my chest. My hand raises, putting a lock of hair behind his ear to get to him. "Or- I could listen to the voices in my head; tie you up, molest you, then sacrifice you to my Holy Lord of Darkness."

"No free rides. Next time you walk."

I let out a short laugh, patting his head before leaning back into his couch. I make myself at home, propping my arms behind my head again. "Oh, your despair and discomfort greatly entertains me."

"And people wonder how is it we get along so well." He grumbles slightly, dropping the book down on his lap then staring at the ceiling, like it has personally offended him, or owes him money. "I find myself asking that question everyday."

"Don't think about it too much." I mockingly reprimand, briefly tapping his nose with my finger teasingly. "Your poor, pretty little head will spontaneously explode into flaming confetti." After a short pause, I change my mind. "Actually- on second thought, go ahead. Maybe you'll eventually come to the conclusion that we're soul mates."

"Soul mates?" He scoffs, slapping my hand away in annoyance. "Right… Before or after I become the President of this country?"

"After. A girl loves a man with power." My hand reaches over, pinching one of his cheeks. My lips spread, barring an innocent smile. "But even before, I'd still love you."

"God have mercy. Save me from this psychopath."

"Shh, ignore his prayers." I mockingly slap my hands close together, eyes facing the ceiling, trailing the faint crack dented in it. "He wishes deep down to marry me and bare my children- coz, I'm not the one having a bun in the oven. Or at least adopt. Because fuck that birth shit- have you seen what it does to a woman's lady parts?"

"Bare your children? And how exactly are you going to impregnate me since we both lack the necessary parts for that to happen."

"It'll be… a Frakenstein project. Personal fantasy of mine. Quite morbid- actually." To freak him out, I purposely lay my arm behind his head, leaning closely with a creepy smile. "It involves knives and other surgical equipment… plus organ donors."

"Jesus!" He wastes no time in pushing me and scrambling to get as far away from the couch as possible. I lift the corners of my mouth in a smirk, sly eyes fluttering at him. "Don't do that!"

I casually, nonchalantly move back into a lounging position, completely relaxed as my face stoically returns to the television screen, switching to a cartoon series. "While you're up- get me a glass of water?"

"Probably the best idea I've ever heard, for the sake of my sanity." He rushes to the kitchen.

"Thanks, Eddie-boo." An evil laugh echoes in my mind. Eddie, that was my plan all along; I'm such a genius.

I switch over the channel again, back to the news. Eddie walks over, slowly- like a cautious baby deer. I wink at him as I reach up, taking the glass and sipping the liquid. I sit up so he has a place next to me. He falters, I arch an eyebrow. "I do like to bite- but I can restrain myself Eddie-boo. Sit with me."

"Ugh." He rolls his eyes and plop down on the other end of the couch. "Fuck my life."

My feet automatically plop themselves back onto his lap. I release a yawn, rubbing my eyes slightly as I bring my gaze to the screen, sipping a bit of water from my glass. It smoothly flows down my throat and I exhale in satisfaction before drinking some more.

"I was just there doing my job, telling this guy he can't park his bike there." He explains to the TV as the man puts the microphone to his mouth. "This other guy runs out of the shop and pushes me over and says something like, "you forget thousands of things everyday, you make sure this is one of 'em."

A shattering clatter of glass shards scatter across the ground. Water splashing the wooden floorboards. I shoot up, legs snapping from Ed's lap. I sit there for a few minutes and just do nothing. My ears become blocked- like when you come out a swimming pool and everything in your hearing is dull and echoing. The silence is deafening- words are coming out of the reporter's mouth but I don't take any of it in. My wide eyes stare at the scene in shock, chest tightening- the pit of my stomach coiling uncomfortably. Confusion and apprehension pierces through me like a sharp, burning knife-

What the hell?


	2. Chapter 2

This can't be right.

"Aww really? I give you a glass of water and you drop in on the floor? Goddamnit." Muttering a few more oaths of his choice, he gets up to grab a mop to clean up the mess and remove the glass shards. Just in case someone decides it will be fun to step on them.

He doesn't notice me being stunned and speechless- which is a rarity in itself. My mouth nearly is dropping to the floor, jaw practically as unhinged and as flexible as a snake's. My eyes seem to have become the size of plates, fists clenching around the TV remote like it is my life-line. The longer I stare into the flat screen- the more my thoughts seem to become a hurricane of chaos.

Michael.

It has to be him. It can't be a coincidence. My mother was quite set on viciously drilling those words into my head as a kid. Growing up, it was like she was religious on those simple little words- it was her obsessive bible while it was the bane in my life. It apparently still is- following me and taunting me like some malevolent ghost. The mashed up letters printing a fresh sting to me, like I've been slapped on the face and it left a pink-ish mark in the form of a sign of damnation behind.

My lack of a comeback catches Eddie's attention- knowing it to be uncharacteristic of me not to say something, not matter how small and simple. I always say something. But right now, my mind can't utter a single letter. It's as if my brain just short-circuited, froze and rebooted- now all information erased and wiped completely from the database.

"What?" He asks, eyes darting to the TV screen then back to me in confusion. "Your father's on TV?"

My eyes snap toward him in surprise, eyebrows quickly rising into my hairline. Did I tell him when I was drunk or something? Weird- considering I've never gotten drunk in my life. Maybe I was sleep-walking and he happened to hear me explain my ever so dramatic childhood before I collapsed on the ground. "How did you know?"

"Wait, that really was your father? I thought you told me he died, or vanished or something."

"That's kinda hard to explain… he was... dead." My eyes drift back to the screen, numbly listening to the news reporter talk about the jewelry heist in Los Santos. My hands clench and unclench as my insides twist uneasily. "It's… more of a hunch. A very- very strong gut feeling… but I think that's... him."

"What made you say that? To think that he came back from the grave and decided the first thing he should do is go on TV?"

"It's what the man said." I admit, narrowing eyes flickering from the TV down to my hands- which are draining from colour. My limbs tremble slightly, body feeling weak and a sudden lack of energy. "That's the last thing he told my mom- that's what she said to me everyday. That- 'you forget a thousand things everyday, and you better make sure this is one of them' thing."

"Okay, so he's your long lost father who came back from the dead, happened to be a criminal and decided that its a good idea to screw someone, leave them pregnant because he was too dumb to use condoms then run away." He shrugs dismissively. "Why bother? He's not worth it."

"I…" I'm silent again- which is strange even to me. It seems like hours pass by from the amount of thinking I do, musing over things, wondering certain little facts. Then, my hair whips out of my face, Ed flinches in fright from the speed I move. I march over to him, face inches from his- my hand snaps out, gripping onto his wrist in an almost iron vice. "Because he's still my dad Ed…a part of me undiscovered. I want answers and we're gonna go find him. We're going to demand these answers- and…and..." A sigh huffs out of me, forcing unwanted tension from my tightening lungs. "I just need to."

"Okay…" He says, avoiding my gaze. "So say you go to Los Santos to find him, a place much larger, much warmer and less backwater than this town, how are you going to find him?" He gestures at the screen. "Los Santos, never mind the whole of San Andreas, is big. There's more than four million people living in the state,so how are you going to find one man, never mind a criminal, in that sprawling metropolis?"

"That's… a good point." My lips shrink into a thin line, teeth then gnawing on the inside of my cheek while I dive into deep thoughts. Then I lift my hand, clicking my fingers as a light bulb dings in my head. "You have a buddy in Los Santos didn't you? Kinda smart, nerd guy? Childish? Collects actions figures? Plays video games a lot- asked you how to download some anti-virus software?"

"I barely even know him. You want me to ask some guy I barely know over the internet to do me a favor and help look for a dangerous criminal?"

"Good, you're listening!" I pat him teasingly on the cheek, lips baring a fat, crooked grin. "Actually- sort it right now- I'll fix your car."

"What makes you think he's going to risk his own ass to help someone he barely knows over the internet to find a dead man?"

My shoulders give a little shrug, mind whipping up a plan and coming up with a quick solution. "Tell him your soul mate will flash him her boobs on cam for five seconds."

"Wait, what?!" He shouts, half in bewilderment and half in shock. "You- you bloody serious?"

"Aww, my darling beloved is jealous." I send him a smile, practically feeling my eyes shine with mirth as I regard him. My hip cocks out to the side as I lean my weight on mainly one foot, reaching up my arms, I cross them under my chest. "Not to fear, lover. I'm only jesting. Of course I'm lying- fuck showing strangers online my um… melons. I am a classy lady- what do you take me for?"

"Its official." He mutters, shaking his head. "You've gone mental."

"My naive, sweet Eddie-boo," His face sours as my hand ruffles his hair, ducking away. I pout. "I was always insane- now. Get on with it. Do what you do best to make me proud and bullshit your way into persuading him to helping us find a guy called Michael Townley. He should be middle aged by now- I think. Brown hair, blue eyes. A wife and two kids that are apparently all hellspawn- according to my mom. Charming woman. Though, she's also batshit crazy."

"Okay, so I find him, then what? You have no air ticket and no place to stay in Los Santos. What are you going to do there? Sleep in the streets?"

"No silly- we are going to crash at your uncles' house." I scoff at the absurd thought of sleeping in piss and trash in an alleyway or the sidewalk. "I also have money- sitting all cosy right at home in my foster mom's purse- she won't notice. She's too stoned and drunk off her ass to notice anything anymore."

"You are going to steal from your foster parent?"

"Relax, Eddie. It's not the first time I've done it." My hand rests upon his shoulder, lightly squeezing to reassure him. I tilt my head up slightly and to the side, lifting half my mouth in a warm smile. My hair flips down into my face, curly locks blocking my vision a little- but I peek through the strands at his very uncertain face. "Like I said; she won't notice a thing anyway."

"You… ugh." He pushes my hand away and gets up, heading for his room. I practically dance in victory of my persuasion powers. "I'll go try asking him, no promises though."

"Thank you!" I shout after him, cupping a hand around my mouth- sending a slight echo through his home. "I'll fix your car for when we go to mine!"

And then I do as such, utilising the hairdryer he got for me earlier. I've plugged it in over by the side in the garage, kneeling down on a thick blanket on the dirty, cold floor. My knees start to feel strained after a while of using the electronic device on it, but as soon as I pick up the airduster, spraying the carbon dioxide over the dent- a metal crank thuds and reverberates on the garage. A clang is heard, and sooner or later- everything is back in place. I lift the cloth from the ground, whipping it in the air to remove any dust before wiping away the remains of the airduster.

Putting my hand on the surface of the floor, I grunt slightly as I stand, chucking the cloth over to the side on a workbench. I put away the materials I used before using the key to unlock the doors. It beeps, lights blinking at me. Nodding in satisfaction, I hop back into the living room, swiping my forehead with the back of my hand.

"I'm done!" I call upstairs- it's a neat trick to be done in hardly even five minutes. One of the rare, useful things a guy my foster mom brought home one night taught me. That was an interesting time-but that's a story for another rodeo. "Dent's fixed!"

"I'm not!" He shouts back down.

"Want me to help?" I yell back, walking over to the stairs, leaning a hand on the wall.

"The prick is offline! If you know some magic to make him come online, feel free to try."

"Uh… Abra codabra?" I mumble to myself almost hopefully, then arch an eyebrow at the quiet response I get in return. My feet quietly creep up the stairs, making sure to make no sound as I slink silently into his room when he's not looking. I stand behind him, then lean down so I'm purposely next to his ear- talking in a perfectly normal volume. "Any luck yet?"

"Bloody motherfu-" He visibly jumps and leaps away from the chair, gasping slightly. A bead of sweat trickles down his forehead as he glares at me in annoyance. "Trying to give me a damn heart attack?"

I burst out laughing, doubling over and slapping a hand over my mouth. My slightly watering eyes flicker up at him, only to find more amusement at his irritated, bitter glower. I just snort. "You-you should have seen your face!"

"Why am I helping you again?"

I eventually sober, calming down. My hand slinks around his shoulder, arm engulfing him. His black shirt is smooth against my palm. He strangely smells of vanilla and a fresh forest. Hm, odd. A possible new, weird cologne perhaps? "Because you love me."

"No." He visibly tenses up, shoulders stiffening at my close proximity and scowls. "I don't."

"Ah- but you do. Why else do you put up with me?" I flutter my eyelashes teasingly, patting his chest three times reassuringly. He edges away uncomfortably, but I keep him in my grasp- like I'm playing with a small bug.

He raises a finger. "Well lets see, three years ago you threatened to burn my book collection if I don't." A second finger goes up, joining the first as he continues to list off. "Two years ago you threatened to geld me." A final one goes up. "Last year you said you will bury me under the snow so I will freeze to death."

"Simple little jests!" I defend my actions. "Besides- I'm not to blame for you having to be forever paired up with me- to make sure our souls are intertwined for eternity. It's Mr. Hutchenson's fault, remember? He made you tutor me in maths- and made me tutor you in science- and a bit of art."

"And I still dream of murdering him every night for condemning me to such a fate."

"I'm also in your dreams- I hear you moan to my name at night."

"No I don't!" He cries out, eyes widening in mortification.

"Aw, are you blushing? That's adorable." I'm trying so hard not to laugh at the absolute horror on his face. I cut him some slack, if someone was doing this to me- I'd probably die from the embarrassment and the unwanted attention. I can't do this with any other person for some reason- probably because Eddie is my only real kind of best friend. It's a bit of a love-hate relationship. "You're so easy to tease, Eddie-boo. I know all of your buttons."

"I hate you." He grumbles, sulking a little.

"Oh that's so sweet. I love you too." My fingers entangle in his hair, playing with his locks in boredom. He cringes, edging even more and trying to escape my hands- failing. "So- is he online yet?"

He quickly takes the chance to break away, prying my fingers off his hair and going back to the seat. "Hmm, nope. Tragic- oh wait." He stops slightly to push his glasses up a little. "He's online."

"He is?" I perk up giddily, snatching a nearby chair and sitting next to him- closely, to his personal discomfort. Oh- how I love to make them squirm in fear and horror. It's amusing to watch.

Hmm, maybe he's right. Maybe I am a psychopath.

Oh well- I'm over it.

"Yep." His fingers quickly flies over the keyboard, typing out a friendly greeting with speed that I can never manage then sending it before I realise it. Quick fingers… hehe… if only he knew the amount of perverted jokes zooming through my mind right now. He'd probably pour acid in his brain.

Another five minutes flies by. Impatient, I put my hand on his shoulder, giving him a jerking nudge. "Is he agreeing or not?"

"I don't know, he's not replying for a while now." He pauses for a while, then opens another tab. "What did you say your father's name was?"

"Michael Townley." I tell him, clasping my hands together as I shift them nervously underneath my knees, squinting my eyes at the screen before looking back over towards Eddie- watching his features twist in slight concentration. He lifts a few fingers, pushing up his sliding glasses.

"Lets see, Michael Tow- Oh. Oh boy." His eyebrows shoots up in surprise as his jaw slightly drops. "Born, 1965. Wanted for at least ten charges of armed robbery, more for both first and second degree murder. Formerly on FIB's domestic most wanted list, oh man. Your old man, holy shit. Shot and killed by DIB agent Dave Norton in a botched robbery in Ludendorff, North Yankton in 2004… That explains why the streets were crawling with cops that day. Should've paid more attention to the news when I was younger… Tara?"

My hands are trembling a little from the news, stomach inconsiderately churning. I feel a little sick, anxious, shock running through me slightly. My mom always said he was a criminal- but she never explained the extent of it. Damn, talk about having a weakness for the bad boys. From the sound of it- my old man was kind of a badass in the criminal world, the whole coming back to life thing. It's intimidating. Least to say it's worrying me a bit if I do meet him.

How would he react to finding out he has a long, lost, illegitimate daughter?

More importantly; do I want to meet him?

I'm not generally one to judge by one's report card or medium level sins like thievery, hacking or whatever- but he's the legit deal. He's a real criminal.

I shake my head, flipping my locks out of my eyes as I turn my gaze to him, stammering a bit. "Y-yeah? What is it?"

"You alright?" He asks, eyes flickering with concern. "You look… well, I don't know."

"Like I've seen a ghost?" I offer, thinking the phrase over in my head. My dad is a ghost. He shouldn't be alive according to this- yet there his words were, coming out of a stranger's mouth. From how I remember my mother talking and reminiscing about him- It's Michael all over.

"Still want to try look for him?"

I hesitate, but then give a firm nod. I bring up my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them in an attempt to gain comfort. "I… need to. It's a little hard to explain but… closure and shit- you know?"

"Your funeral." He sighs, turning back to the computer. "Don't say I didn't try to stop you."

"Just do it." I reach a hand up, nudging his shoulder. My eyes lock onto the screen of his computer, scanning the words once more before averting away as I wait patiently and quietly.

"Hmm…" Eddie adjusts his glasses, fixing them into place as his eyes dart to the reply. I lean over him to see the screen, resting my hand on the back of his chair. "Rockford Hills. That's all I can get out of him. He's not willing to be more specific than that."

My lips tighten into a scowl of annoyance, eyebrows knitting together. My fingers clench around the back of the seat. I push myself up straight, crossing my arms and glancing at Ed. "Not even if I threaten to make him eat his own balls?"

"Tried everything. Rockford Hills was the most I can get out of him. Sorry."

"Alright, fine." I give a little, simple shrug. Then I raise my hand, slapping it on Eddie's shoulder before spinning on my heel for the door, slipping back in my usual optimistic mood. "Well, let's get going! We're losing daylight."

"Wait w-what?" He stammers, looking up in surprise. "Right now? You shitting me?"

I stop, feet faltering as I turn to look at him. A stoic expression etching across my features. I arch a brow, setting my hands on my hips. "Yes. Come on- get off your ass." I take my hands, slapping them together in an echoing clap. "Chop-chop! My old man ain't gonna wait all day."

"You might not be on best terms with your parents, or foster parents, but I still have mine, and I still need to tell them that I'm going out on a extended trip to find a dangerous career criminal." He reminds. "Never mind the fact that my uncle will be extremely annoyed that we suddenly showed up on his doorstep and asked for a place to sleep."

Striding over to him, my hand lunges out, causing him to flinch. My fingers quickly coil around his slender wrist, yanking him up to his feet and hauling him out the room. "Leave a note, say; you're going out for university interviews- parents love that crap."

"Whoa, whoa! We don't-" He stops when he nearly trips over his own feet, barely saving himself from a painful faceplant. "We don't have air tickets! And we need… shit! Passports for that!"

I halt so his feet can stop stumbling over themselves. I crane my head around to look at the panicking boy. "You do have a passport, adorable picture by the way, and I have one tucked in my room for when I wanted to move out. I also have plenty of money for the air tickets-well, technically my foster mom is paying for us. But the only thing your pretty, girly head needs to worry about is packing some clothes."

"I was under the impression that sudden last minute plans regarding flying to a state hundreds of miles down in the South was something people do as adults, not at my age."

"There's not an age limit for awesome adventures." I assure him- or attempt to. My hand rakes through my blonde hair, moving it out of my eyes. Then I send him a Cheshire grin, baring my teeth as I start to change the direction of our course from his car to his room. "Come on- I'll help you pack."

"Shiiit." Resigning himself to the fact that there's no way he's getting out of this, he stops struggling and lets himself be dragged back to his room. "This sucks."

I open my mouth to let an evil cackle escape me, shoving him into his room, I shut the door behind me with a light thud and begin to casually whiz around his room, looking in his closet for clothes and chucking them over my shoulder and onto him, then moving to his drawers and pulling out jeans, underwear, socks- anything I can see.

Tilting my head at the choice of underwear, I pull out a Impotent Rage pair, lips twitching in a smirk as I turn around and wiggle them in the air. Amusement plays on my features. I lean back against the wooden drawers, trying not to giggle, snicker and snort. He irritably yanks off the clothes I threw on his head, then his eyes widen dramatically to the size of plates when he sees the piece of clothing in my hand. His cheeks flame to a tomato red.

"Fan of the Impotent Rage?" I inquire innocently, lips sliding into the grin of a predatory shark.

"Well… erm… shit. They are not mine?"

"Oh, my mistake. Is this my future draw for when we're married?" I tease, throwing him the underwear. He fumbles, barely catching it. "Not really my taste, if I'm honest. I'll make sure to send you a list of the things I like so you can get them for me."

"Probably a box full of dildos and vibrators." He mumbles under his breath, so soft that I barely hear him say that. But I do, so my grin widens. I stand in front of him, putting my hands on my hips.

"Aw, how did you know?" My hand tangles in his hair, imaginary sharp shark fangs flashing as I tilt my head at him innocently. I can feel the devil horns sprouting from my skull. I was born to mentally torture him. "We are soul mates."

"Erm… You heard that? Well… shit?"

"You're so cute when you're embarrassed." My fingers pinch his cheek, throwing him a wink before turning around and kneeling to the ground beside his bed, I drag out a suitcase I stashed there a week ago in case an occasion like this would occur and practically throw a pile of his clothes in a suitcase.

"Where did that suitcase come from?"

"I stashed it there when you were at your grandmothers." I fold his clothes, dumping them in the suitcase and sitting on top of it as I yank the zip around it, in trying to close it. A sleeve gets caught in the zip and a scowl forms on my face, tucking it in and pulling the zip along.

"You actually broke into my house? Jesus!"

"Don't be stupid, your mom invited me in for jam tarts and ice tea." My lips tug at the corners. "I just happened to have the suitcase on me at the time."

"So you planted a suitcase, in my house, in my room, under my bed."

"I thought you were human- not a parrot." My eyes roll in the sockets, an eyebrow arching and my shoulders jerking in a shrug. I grunt, standing up and propping the suitcase up right. "But yeah, I did. What's so hard about that to comprehend?"

"Well… its my room. It could be booby trapped."

"If I was gonna prank you, I would have planted stink bombs with a trigger and manual control to lock your windows and door." I snort. "I never realized how easy it was to infiltrate your room until I did that- someone could put a sticky bomb on here and you'd never know."

"The only stink bomb I remember was the one you tried to make and went off in your face half a year ago." He retorts, pulling a few books off the bookshelf and dumping them into his bag reluctantly. "So what is it now? A stink bomb that have a malfunctioning fuse? Has it went off prematurely yet?"

"There's a faulty one in your bathroom that hasn't gone off yet. I didn't wanna blow it up while I was there, so I left it- it hasn't gone off yet though so when it explodes it will explode unpredictably."

"Made by you? Then its probably never going to blow up. Either it goes off early, or never at all."

"Who knows, maybe your mom will get a nasty surprise. I did leave an apology note forged in your handwriting in her room about a stink bomb."

"... screw you."

"I'm sure you want to, but unfortunately not until after marriage."

"If, by some miracle that I do manage to find myself a girlfriend or marry someone," he retorts, gritting his teeth. "It will not be someone who finds amusement in torturing and annoying me, being the bane of my life in general." He shoulders his bag in one quick movement and picks up his suitcase, pushing past me and through the doorway.

"Come on. Before my common sense takes over and I change my mind."


End file.
